|
Run No. 797
Two Chicks Hash
Dec 5, 2004
Hares: Birdie
& Breastburn
In Attendance: Oral Sox, TwoJugs, Black Widow, ET, Phart, Dyscount, GoodCrack,
Pistonbroke & Just Libby, Barbie, Streetmeat and DrinksLikeAGirl visiting
from Hogtown, and Zigzag late as usual
\It was a crisp December day, and hashers were slowly slithering in from Snake
Road and other directions, to the rural hideaway of Breastburn and her hubby,
plus the dog Keno who was jumping people harmlessly.
TwoJugs took advantage of having some new blood by selling haberdashery at
cut-throat prices, and finally the hares showed up to start the event.
Birdie explains the signs: NB = No Beer as opposed to BN, making this a
wasteful effort right from the
start.
So we finally get going, where it should be pointed out that we get NO
direction at all, hares holding back and not even making an effort to sweep the
rear, blaming bad feet and cranky hipbones. So bud, you’re on your own, and we
shuffle off down the road. We see
FRB’s way in the distance on a false trail, and need a piercing whistle to get
them back on track. Far-flung marks
along the road seem to be carelessly tossed from a moving automobile. Since arrows were proclaimed to be
real, we make a left turn up onto the Bruce Trail, but after some dazed and
bedazzled up-and-downing there seem to be no more marks, proving once again the
mendacity of the principal Hare. So
we turn around to go in the opposite direction, startling some innocent Sunday
walkers with our cries and guffaws. Some view checks were ignored as being not
too impressive but we did notice Zigzag in the faraway distance trotting along
where we had been just an hour ago.
Or at least we thought we did, and sometime the illusion feels just as good. Oral’s whistle was applied, but we did
not see Zigzag shortcutting over the farmer’s field. So on we went, to the next T in the road,
and here is where hare Birdie showed up, advising us at this late time not to
bother following the false trail leading to highway fumes, where the hogtowners
and other keenies had already gone before.
This gave us a bit of a head-start, but in the end we all more or less
arrived back at the homestead at the same time, including Zigzag, who got
totally lost and decided to not bother and slink back on home. So settling on
the deck, we start the drinking ceremonies:
So here we have a Downdown for the hares for setting a totally useless run
Downdown for the visitors from Hogtown
Downdown for ET accused of being a backslider
Downdown for Peeing on trail to Oral Sox, TwoJugs and StreetMeat - I wonder
what pervert keeps track of this
Downdown for Pistonbroke - His muddy and bedraggled footwear got the Best Shoe
Award
Downdown for Zigzag for being late, arriving when the sun went down
Downdown for Bashing without Hashing: for Birdie, Breastburn & hubby Raffy who
hankered to be part of the crowd, if
only because he has the same alcoholic thirst for beer like the rest of us
Downdown for Just Libby for being rowdy the sweet little thing
Then a Downdown for everyone who had not yet had a Downdown
On to the Accusations: ET
accuses Birdie of setting trail from a car
- Downdown for autohashing!
Pistonbroke accuses Black Widow of - (a) not pronouncing his name right,
calling him Brokenpiston, and (b) climbing a fence and running away from a nasty
dog
Black Widow in turn accuses Pistonbroke of erasing the X of the false trail to
confuse hogtown hashers
Twojugs took up the challenge of being accused of not going down hill, saying
he’s always happy to go down
On on at Gators’ Ted in Waterdown for victuals and viands but it was a bery
busy bar, with lotsa rugrats running amok, thus we had to chase useless little
kids outta their chairs so we could plunk down our exhausted asses.
Phart grabbed the waitress for Order No. 11, the best deal in wings and beer @
$10 a pop, except TwoJugs had liver.
On on home after this
On-on!
Reported
by E.T.
Run No. 800
Jingle Bells Annual X-Mas
Hash
Dec 27, 2004
Well,
our dreams of a White Christmas had come true and it was a cold and snowy day
for our last hash of the year. But wait,
this was not just the ultimate year-end run, it was also a Christmas Run and,
to top it off, it was the Oakville Hash House Harriers 800th
Run! Many hashers have come and gone
over the years, and no founding members have stuck it out to date, but there
were some REAL old hashers present for this special octocentennial
celebration. ET and the old Phart, keeping to hash time, motored to the starting circle
half an hour late, and were amazed and astonished to hear 25 plus people
yelling out their hash monikers or lack thereof, and we jumped in the circle
just in time to bark out ours, it being noted that we were the only ones in
Christmas apparel. Alas, there being so
many people never before encountered by
your trusty scribe, not all names will be immortalized in these selfsame anals, but let it be said that the huge turnout was
impressive and gratifying to say the least for those of us who have been
witness to a hash of 4 in the past.
A bleak
wintery sun warmed our backsides, and after it was
established that Pistonbroke was the hare, with Just
Libby as the haress, who asked us to look for her
lost hat, we started to trot off on the basically A to B and Back course,
mostly along Lakeshore Road, and then on to Shell Park. Opportunities for beerstops
at various Burlington hasher homes were lost, to the
point that there was no beerstop at all, and
certainly no hot toddies, which our freezing and shivering bodies so clearly
craved. This was possibly attributable
to the hares being under age. A bit of a
runaround in Shell
Park where we were forced to backslide under some barbed wire,
causing those with beerbellies to have more trouble
than others.
Having
all been invited back to Goodcrack’s new abode for
the annual Christmas dinner celebration, it was announced that only a
privileged few were allowed to park nearby, while the rest was forced to park 2
miles down the road.
Downdown ceremonies
were held in GoodCrack’s backyard, just to make sure
her new neighbours knew right from the start whom they
were dealing with.
First Downdown to the Hares - Pistonbroke
& Just Libby who grimaced at the beer - did it taste too salty?
Downdown to the Hostess GoodCrack
- eliciting the ditty “Why was she born so beautiful?”
Then a Downdown to a Visitor from Kazakhstan - who was regaled with the camel song while his better half All-Inclusive wisely stayed inside.
Downdown for a New
boot -Just Carol (who is apparently in the drug business) - inspiring a X-mas joke Carol by TwoJugs
Hashers
coming from far and near, including the familiar looking FigLeaf
from Montreal who deserved a Downdown - while Hyena
commented on his attractive winter coat which seemed to be made from a nice fuzzy carpet - and it
was inquired whether he paid $500 for it
on rue Maisonneuve or got it from the Sally Ann, but
regardless it kept more than his genitals toasty warm, except his nose which
ran snottily
Downdown for Zigzag
who came late - he could not find the tracks but did find the Downdown
Downdown for ButUgly and 6 others who peed on trail
Downdown for Mrs.
Robinson’s sister Cougar
Downdown for Sextoy for being from Hogtown
Downdown for DeadEnd looking for trail in the wrong direction
Then a
special Naming Ceremony took place for Just Libby - who had been Just Libby
Just long enough. Having her kneel in the snow she was baptized Titfer, from the Cockney rhyming slang Titfer
or Tit for Tat which rhymes with hat.
(Tit for Tat lost her hat) One has to be a bloody Limey to come up with
this stuff.
Downdown for Mrs. Robinson who
was accused of not paying attention.
And after we were thoroughly chilled from standing around
in the snow and drinking ice-cold beer, we all rushed back inside, where the
appetizing odours of the slowly cooking turkey wafted around our ears, while we
started to scarf down exquisite appetizers and slug more cold beer and vino, till it was time to take out the self-cooked and
sliced turkey and devour the many delectable, delightful and delicious dishes
and desserts, all the while trying to maintain an intelligent and animated
conversation with hashers (which is well-nigh impossible in and of itself) and
all those other people who came out of the woodwork for bashing without
hashing, not even being punished with an icily frozen ingestion from the toilet
plunger, but then, who were we to object since it was Christmas, or Kwanzaa, or any Festival of your political correct choice
and a spirit of generosity is deemed to prevail, so never mind, we all had a
good time, and since we were not into unpacking boxes for the itinerant GoodCrack, and she seemed to have some handy helpers and fluffers for the clean up, I mean what else is family goodfer, we packed our bags and trotted along the now dark
and deserted Lakeshore road the long way back to the chariot heading home.
On-on!
Reported
by E.T.
|
